The Slow Path
by Lapua Magnum
Summary: Never aging; he reckons that the metacrisis caused a regenerative time-loop, an endless cycle of the first 15 hours. The Donna-Doctor without his police box, and he thinks it was ironic because perhaps, this was what it feels like to Jack. A what if scenario that runs through the life of an immortal Doctor. He has only one heart and one life; whose to say it cannot go on forever?


Years after the Medusa Cascade, and long after Peter Tyler dies a second time, the Doctor was still John Smith. The madman without his blue box, even as the non-Doctor, still remembers that long ago he chose a name on a planet that wasn't home. He remembers the red sky and the silver trees, and listens for the singing fish that were no longer there. And he laughs, because his hands were stained with the blood of his own people and he rages, because even in a parallel universe, he was still the Doctor.

In a way, Donna really did take his best parts. He feels the singular beats of his own heart, and stricken that even half-human, his body would never let him die. Never aging; he reckons that the metacrisis caused a regenerative time-loop, an endless cycle of the first 15 hours. The Donna-Doctor without his police box, and he thinks it was ironic because perhaps, this was what it feels like to Jack. He stares hard into the bathroom mirror every morning, counting the lines on his face, because he wishes that he was wrong, and he wants to grow old together with the Bad Wolf, vacuum the carpet and grumble over mortgage. The Not-Doctor reclines on her chair and could watch the paint peel and the ceiling crumble, his dear Rose wither, and he could. Of course he could. The Doctor always knows what to do, except when he doesn't. As he sits with a grieving Rose Tyler, he wonders if he would do the same when it was his turn to mourn, or would he run as he had ran from the Untempered Schism.

But he makes tea, because he is the Doctor, and tannin is great for the broken hearted. He rattles on a hundred miles per minute and when he sees her smiling, and he marvels at how strong his pink and yellow human is. For that moment, he forgets and he holds her, promises to stay forever.

If he was going to lie to his sweet Rose, he might as well make it a good one.

She doesn't know, and he doesn't know how to tell her. In an alternate universe, the Doctor presses his nose against solid glass, and he howls in sheer agony. It wasn't exactly the worst way he had to go. But he sees, and he knows, because in the end they were the same person, that he doesn't want to die, that he has so much left to do. He sits on the floor for hours, and he wonders if the other Doctor knows about the alternative, that his metacrisis will outlast him and then some (and he probably does; that brilliant bastard). Timelords aren't meant to go billions of years in a stagnant soul. Maybe when he is old enough to beat old Boe, he will finally lose his mind, and he is absolutely terrified when that happens. Someday in a marketplace in a distant galaxy, there will be a man with his face, but it wouldn't be the Doctor anymore. There is no more Trenzalore, but the alternative wouldn't be any better.

10 years later, and the young TARDIS grows maybe a foot tall. The timer is set at a century, and the Doctor was in no hurry. But sometimes, he stares longingly and Rose Tyler never mentions how he looks exactly the same as he did on Bad Wolf Bay. So the Doctor wanders because he can, from one slow zeppelin to the other. He was the man without a home, the lonely god. The Doctor walks away because he has rules and people to save, and his love is so very destructive. He doesn't let her see that even with Rose and her slowly approaching expiry date, that he remains a constant.

They have a flat without carpets, but it was never really home to them. Rose was always whisking in and out of Torchwood, and occasionally, he drops by from his escapades to say hello. They would have cupcakes with tiny ball bearings and he tries to ship her off with Australia. He insisted on Australia, because Rose hadn't been jeopardy friendly in years, and Australia is full of dangerous things. It wasn't sonic compatible per say, but the Doctor always had been fond of poking and licking things he isn't supposed to. Rose would laugh, her tongue sticking between her teeth, and joke about his singular life, which they both know isn't exactly true. The Doctor has grown fond of her ever growing laugh-lines, and he pecks her gently on her lips. He leaves the next day like a wind, and Rose wishes that she could go with him. But she has work and good old Jackie tended to wander. The Doctor never grew his roots, and perhaps that was the main problem.

They can never have kids. Timelord cross-breeding, like regenerations, are highly unstable. Rose was highly sceptical that she could ever raise children with no noses. But it was okay, as everything was okay, and the Doctor was so, so sorry. There were little to none for alien activity and sometimes, he gets a bit restless. Once upon a rainy July, the Doctor leans on the bus station in Glasgow, and happens upon a woman with brilliant red hair. She grumbles about the weather and pushes up her fogging glasses, and the Doctor offers up his umbrella to the girl that never waited. Amelia Pond has always been patient, and she thanks him because it was proper and scribbles her number into his unblemished hands. She tells him to ring her and promises to mail back the umbrella. Invites him to tea, she says. With the auton that never was, and with the River that never died.

The Doctor lets the ink seep through in the rain. The Doctor never calls the Ponds. In a way, that was the way it should have been. But he stops by sometimes to observe the woman that was never his wife, and he wonders if the Other Doctor is happy. If he guided her hands, gave her the path and watched her die because they were time travellers and they kept meeting at the wrong times. This Doctor never sleeps but he dreams of his final day with River Song, and for once, he wants to go home.

He visits more often and by decade four, the Doctor has his own little office in Torchwood 3. The Doctor never owns a gun, because he never needs one, and the staff never salutes. He keeps a rack for his sonic screwdrivers, and he labels the models by version, tinkering, adding new gadgets, constantly rebuilding. Rose has a sonic to mark every birthday since she was 32, and her heart secretly burns whenever she drinks coffee. So far, Rose has found 15 grey hairs. She pretends she isn't bothered, but you were a fool to try and hide from the Doctor. Her back creaks and she starts wearing glasses. The Doctor and his dear Rose, with a matching set of specs, and he makes spares for her all the time. It was around this time when Rose discovers that the Doctor wears glasses to look smart and she teases him relentlessly. He pouts wondrously because Rose is fond of his human moments. They go out for chips every Saturday, and it was the happiest moments in Rose's life. The Doctor might never be truly domestic but she appreciates every bit she gets.

Rose is 50 years old and she still never mentions his smooth freckled face. She wasn't as springy as she used to, and their holidays involved much less running. They had been everywhere in the world; but not Australia for some reason, and the Doctor so badly wanted to go. So they went, and the Doctor was slightly disappointed that alligators aren't as big as the paper says, but it was the longest they had stayed in one place. Three whole days in a motel while the flood swamps in, and Rose had to lock the doors so that the Doctor doesn't try scuba diving in the muddy waters. There was tea to last; they played enough checkers for an eternity.

The Doctor never changes and the Doctor always lies. Being stuck on the slow path, he has so much time to prepare and the Doctor finally tells Rose that he lied about growing old with her. She was okay with it, because she was his pink and yellow human, and she had known for years now. The Doctor has 900 years worth of memories, and he tires of death. Yet he smells it upon his Rose, and he could tell that she is wilting. The immortal Doctor hears the ticks and chimes of time, and he presses the minute hand sharply in hopes that it would break. Always waste time when you don't have any and the Doctor forgets about the Other Doctor. He spends time with his Rose, with their baked beans and tea, and book clubs and laundry. He hates it, the slow and mundane, but he finds excuses to spend time with Rose and that was all that matters.

On her 52nd birthday, they defended the Earth against the Silureans.

On her 58th birthday, the Doctor crushed the Daleks all over again

On her 60th, they borrowed a time vortex manipulator and saw the stars.

On their wedding anniversary, the stopped for chips on the Moon of Poosh.

And on her 67th birthday, his Rose was cut from her stem far too early.

The Master that was never the Master, and a race of people that never died out. The Doctor in all his might and intelligence forgets to turn on the radio for too long, and he fails to see the woman with an eye patch. He sank to his knees, hands trembling and heart thumping steadily, because it isn't the first time he has seen death. The Sentinels of History crows in victory, dealing the final blow on the Doctor, with his dear friend at the forefront and his lover bleeding on the silver grass of his own home. Poor old Koschei, and even in a different world, he still has his strings drawn and the circus plays the drums for his ears to hear. The Master blinked, stuck halfway sober and mad, and he doesn't recognise the bloody dagger in his hand. For once, the Doctor didn't have the answers and he howls because he was so stupid, and he doesn't even see Trenzalore and the question that was begging to be asked.

Gallifrey instead of Lake Silencio, Koschei instead of River Song and Rose instead of the Doctor. Once upon a time, the Doctor was an old man in a blue box. And when the fairytale ended, nothing has really changed at all. The Doctor is 956 years old and he was still as daft as he was when he was a 100. And yet, the Doctor was the Destroyer of Worlds, and he laughs because he feels like he has gone mad. He reaches for his bowtie that wasn't there, and remembers that he could do it again.

He is the Doctor, but he is also the Metacrisis, a self-sustained fixed point in time and space. A paradox with a bomb strapped across his chest. He looks beside the gloating Silence and he sees the trigger. Timelords were snatches of time energy, and he smiles because he has the answer to all his questions and he was the Oncoming Storm once more.

It was funny how it all worked out in the end, with his best friend, the constant drumming, and the Bad Wolf shattered under his feet. He places his arms around Professor Yana, his friend stares bewildered and the Silence screams for him to stop. The paradox and Gallifrey's most infamous child; enough power to blow up a Belgium sized crater in the Mountains of Perdition.

On the other side of the coin, a man with a bowtie rewrites reality and marries a woman with flyaway hair.

The Doctor always lies and the Doctor always runs. John Smith the Metacrisis wakes up on Earth, Lake Silencio, Utah with a kicking hangover. He licks his gums. New teeth. Old teeth, it doesn't really matter. He still wears the same face and the same pinstripes- the immortal Doctor with only one heart and he notices an astronaut suit lying face down in the sand. He flips the body around because he is the Doctor and he has nothing better to do other than poke dangerous things with a stick.

Harold Saxon, all brown haired and without a speckle of blonde. He was almost angry that Koschei had survived instead of Rose. But the grief hasn't hit yet and he numbly fishes his old friend out of the suit, noting that reality was pieced back together again. Which was lucky if he didn't want another Belgium-sized crater on Earth. Small victories.

The Doctor feels something crinkling in his pocket, and he furrows his brow when he realises his pockets aren't bigger on the inside anymore. A silver aluminium foil explains in his own handwriting-the Other Doctor- that he isn't in the same parallel universe, a variation of the same thing, but in a different space time deviation. Another possible timeline, and in this one, Galifrey doesn't even exist in the first place. In his other pocket was the TARDIS, and he mutters an angry complaint that it was basic coral and he practically has to grow the whole thing again. But he has an eternity to wait, and once again, he was stuck on the slow path once more.

So the Doctor sits, and he waits for dear old Koschei to wake up.


End file.
